When it was hardly dark, Grazian gave orders for all to go to their night's rest, for the next morning they must rub their eyes open early, for there was to be a wedding in the house. The whole night through, not a soul must stir, and cellars and store-houses were to be kept locked.

At evening, the students sang the Maiden's song before the windows of the bride's room, and then all the lights in the castle went out. There was as deep a quiet as if no one were awake; only the cracking of the ice on the Waag sounded on the still night.

When the great castle clock struck midnight, Magdalene arose, put on her gown, fastened to her girdle the little bag with its relics, and slipped noiselessly down the stairway to the little gate in the rear that led to the bear den. She looked about her, but the bears were not to be seen.

After Candlemas, the bears begin their winter sleep, when the weather outside is raw. The bears did not cross her path. Fearlessly she went to the church-door. From there she breathed one last farewell to the castle of her fathers, that she was to leave forever, and then entered the door. As before, the moonlight fell upon the church, and lighted up the pierced saints, the nameless gravestones, and the altar picture in its carved frame. Now had she reason to fear, for she had learned what those saints suffered from the darts that pierced them. She had learned who slept under nameless gravestones, and the names of those terrible forms that frightened and misled the hermit in the picture.

If her deliverer, if her lover, would only come sooner! The owls in the tower hooted more than ever. Suddenly the bell rang and the altar picture shone brightly. Her lover was near. What a wonderful altar picture that was that appeared in the place of Saint Anthony,--a Saint Ladislaus! This was a genuine Hungarian saint, not one tortured to death by heathen, but one who struck the heathen down! Now he came down from the altar frame to comfort the kneeling maiden.

"It is well that you hurried: to-morrow they are to take me away to Poland. You might never more have seen me."

"Let us hasten, my love."

"Just wait a moment until I offer one last prayer at my brother's grave."

"Let me add mine."

And so the two went and knelt before the monument of the murdered brother, and hand in hand offered their prayer.

"Amen," and "Amen." The girl kissed the bust carved in stone. "You forgive me, do you not, dear brother?" she said.

"How could I help forgiving you, my dear sister?" rang out a hoa.r.s.e voice from the depths, and with that the crypt door opened, and out plunged Berezowski's armed force, and at their head the wronged bridegroom with drawn sword. In the hand of Tihamer Csorbai too, the sword suddenly flashed.

"Well, if you are no priest, I'll kill you on the spot," roared Berezowski, raising his weapon for a heavy stroke; but Tihamer advanced and struck him under the shoulder, so that his arm dropped. Berezowski himself fell back on the floor without seeing the end of the struggle.

"Back underground again, you cowards!" shouted Tihamer, dealing deadly blows at his a.s.sailants, who withdrew before his terrible anger toward the crypt door. Just then, the church door opened and in rushed Grazian's household of servants with torches and weapons; he himself carried only his crutch in his hand.

"Here monk," he cried, "stand, parson, you Father Peter, tempter! You shall be beaten down with a stick." And he rushed blindly toward him with his crutch raised. Magdalene threw herself between the two.

"By all the saints! Father! Tihamer! Do not harm each other, trample rather on me!"

"Out of the way!" growled her father, and with his foot he pushed aside the maiden kneeling before him. Luckily for him, one of his own company had thrown himself in the way, and received on his head the heavy sabre cut that Tihamer had intended for the father. Two more servants fell fatally wounded under the knight's grim strokes, and then his sword broke off at the hilt. But this miserable pack of menials did not conquer him: it was true he had no sword, but on the altar were great candelabra in copper. He seized one of those, and struck such blows right and left that soon his way was free before him. Whoever laid hold of him was glad to let him go again. With one leap he was on the altar: already was he in the altar frame, and behind him lay the secret pa.s.sage; he had only to open the oaken door and push the bolt, and he was saved. But as he cast a glance from the altar down to the church below, bright with the red light of the torches, he saw a sight that held him riveted fast to the spot: he saw Grazian Likovay seize Magdalene's long streaming hair, and drag the helpless maiden to the church door.

This robbed him wholly of his senses; rage stifled every human thought in his soul. He was now nothing but a wild beast--a lion robbed of his lioness; roaring with anger, he sprang with one bound from the altar to the floor; each hand was armed with the heavy candelabra, and with these as clubs he threw himself on the pack of servants, crushing everything before him in the way of human bones. Like Hercules in his Nessus-shirt, he raged through the midst of the servants and forced his way to the church door where Grazian was dragging his daughter by the hair. He overtook the old man, and dealt a heavy blow at his head, but Grazian caught it with his hand. Somebody from behind threw a cloak over Tihamer's head, another made a plunge at his feet, and soon he was overpowered, thrown down, and bound.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN'S REVENGE.

The ice on the Waag rolled more and more mightily! Not within the memory of the oldest inhabitant had it ever been so dangerous before. The icy flood crowded through the brook of Madocsany to the mill-dam, easily broken through, and then it might have found its way to the castle wall.

"See," said little Cupid to his mother, "Why did you push Saint Nepomeck out of his place, you and Father Peter? Now Saint Nepomeck is paying you for it."

"Oh, you've been dreaming."

"No, I saw it! I am still trembling at it."

"If you are trembling, then you have fever. Go back to bed, and don't look out of the window. I'll send Hirsko to tell you a story."

(Yes, Hirsko, who knows where he is now?)

"No, send me Father Peter instead, he'll tell me the truth."

"Very well then, Father Peter."

Since dawn, Idalia had been fully ten times to Father Peter's sitting-room to see if he was at home; but neither he nor his handsome cloak was to be seen. Through the opened window whistled the wind. The lady went out on to her gla.s.s-covered balcony and looked in astonishment at the great ice sea which the Waag had changed the valley into, for the time; a sea through the centre of which flowed a swift current, while its borders were of ice barricades, rising mountain high. The four tin-roofed towers of Mitosin Castle were resplendent in the morning sunshine. Suddenly it seemed to her that a black spot detached itself from the opposite bank and made its way through the ice stream. Soon she could see through the gla.s.s that it was a boat with five men. What might this boat be bringing? There need be no fear of five men. Here were five and twenty servants, hunters and haiduks already, and all armed with guns and halberds. The men in the boat were making a truly perilous attempt; the ma.s.ses of ice threatened every moment to sink the boat.

Often they jumped out to pull it through the ice blocks. At one moment a giant slab of ice rose and then suddenly plunged down, almost destroying them all, like so many water rats. A man must have a deeply fixed purpose to go to Madocsany such a day. Who could it be? There were four in the crew, it was apparent from a distance. The fifth was so wrapped in his bearskin that he was not recognizable. At last they came in safety to the mill-dam. Then the crew sprang out of their boat, dragged it up on the ice, fastened it to a willow; and now the fifth person, all wrapped in his bearskin, rose and climbed up on the bank. Then Idalia recognized him at a glance--he limped. It was the lord of the neighboring estate. Grazian Likovay was approaching,--her foe in whose heart she had now turned her knife for the second time. But he comes alone--what has he in mind? Was the old bear looking up his former foe, to throttle her, like a wild-cat? The bear would find by experience that the wild cat had claws she knew how to use.

The Lady Idalia wore a long Russian cloak, bordered with fur, and in the broad sleeves was carefully concealed a poisoned dagger, which must by a single scratch inevitably send down to death the strongest man.

At the same time, the haiduks entered the next room as a reserve force, and the steward and manager stood ready to strike down the first man who tried to injure their lady. Unnecessary prudence. Grazian Likovay had come without weapons; he could not have used any, had he had it; for his right arm was in a sling, and his hand was bandaged. Father Peter's last blow with the candelabra had been aimed at his head, but Likovay caught it with his hand, and so maimed it. The left hand was occupied with the crutch and his cap, now removed.

With downcast head and humble soul, dragging the lame foot, Grazian came into the presence of the Lady, and addressed her in a voice like that of a beggar at the door.

"Humbled to the dust, I come, my Lady, to you, a poor, dead, buried old man. I acknowledge that I have been defeated, maimed, destroyed. I also recognize that I deserved it. I was the guilty one. I was the fool. When disgrace reached to the very tower of my own house, I sought it in your cellar. I accused you of a shame that was my daily bread. You were right. May this give you comfort."

"What have you done? I hope that you have not been killing or murdering."

"Oh, don't be frightened. I know how sensitive your heart is. You would have mourned if the wild, foolish Grazian Likovay, in consequence of a good word from you, in consequence of a truly friendly warning worthy of a kinsman and a neighbor, had throttled one after the other, both man and maiden. No, he has not done so; on the contrary, it is we who have been mowed down."

"By Father Peter?"

"Yes, by Father Peter, but in the form of Tihamer Csorbai. He is a valiant knight. First, he all but killed my intended son-in-law, the good Berezowski, and then he crippled two of my brave haiduks, and when his sword broke, seized the church candlesticks and dealt us blows. I received one, I beg you to look at it." And with that he took the b.l.o.o.d.y bandage off his hand.

Idalia was horrified; she wished to help Grazian bind it up again, but he would not allow it.

"Don't trouble yourself, gracious Lady, with my teeth and my left hand I can bind it up somehow."

"And what became of Father Peter?" urged the lady.

"He finally succ.u.mbed; 'many geese are the death of even a boar!'"

"Do you mean that he was killed?"

"No, not killed. I told you already that I did not kill anybody. I am a gentle, pious man. Neither I, nor anybody else at my command, will kill Father Peter."

"Then what will become of him?"

"I'll take care of that; but not a hair of his head shall be touched; I promise you that in advance. I swear to you, even, that he shall outlive me."

"What is to be done with your daughter?"

"Oh, you need have no concern on her account, gracious Lady, I have not killed her either. Neither have I shut her up in a dungeon, nor even once scourged her. I have become a good, inoffensive man."

"What have you done, then? Have you forgiven her?"

"I have not only released her from punishment, but I have even let her go. I let her go, just as I once promised her, if she should ever again presume to meet Tihamer Csorbai."